A Fire's Past
by Zodiac Author
Summary: Summary: Rebecca Jane Allen: A woman, an alchemist, a murderer. Roy Mustang: A man, an alchemist, a murderer. When a woman steps into the Amestris military as a State Alchemist soon after the Ishbal War, Roy discovers you cannot just run from the past
1. Prolouge: A Woman Scarred

Summary: Rebecca Jane Allen: A woman, an alchemist, a murder. Roy Mustang: A man, an alchemist, a murder. When a woman steps into the Amestris military as a State Alchemist soon after the Ishbal War, Roy discovers you cannot just run from the past.

Disclaimer: I do not own Roy Mustang. If I did, I would not in be on here; I would be in a corner raping him. I do not own Maes Hughes. If I did, I would not be here; I would be giggling over his adorable Elysia along with him. I do not own the Furher. If I did, I would be strangling him and shoving obscene things into his eye-socket! Anyways, for the shorter answer, I do not own any part of Full Metal Alchemist. All I can own is Rebecca Jane Allen.

Note: It has been quite some time since I have written any Fan Fiction. It's about I did something I greatly enjoy doing.

As well, I am not going to say if you don't review I won't write. I read Fan Fiction and if I like it I don't say anything… so… basically I'm not going to be a hypocrite. Thank you and I hope you enjoy whether or not you say something.

**Fire's Past**

Prologue

A Woman Scarred

From somewhere outside of the small inn, the sound of a mother could be heard yelling for her children to come in for the night. Outside a stray mutt rummaged through the trash cans to discover some for morsel that would make its bones less obvious. Underneath the crescent moon of Amestris, a poor father tried to gain some money through his feeble attempts of alchemy. It was a typical Eastern Amestris night, truthfully.

Inside the bar and inn, it was as normal for any night: men were getting drunk, women were flirting, and some sat in a corner happy for the solitude that such nights offered.

Rebecca Allen was one of the few of the last types tonight. She leaned over her liquor softly drinking. Though she was promised the best the inn had after saving the owners' herb garden, the beer was still rather disgusting.

Her green eyes watched the tankard and the fingers that softly the rim. Brown hair that fell down inches above her shoulder blades covered her forehead and half of her face. She wore a green tank top under a long tan trench coat. These both would have probably looked alright if they were not speckled with dirt, covered in holes and tears, and was a size bigger than her small frame. Over her hands, she wore olive gloves that reached up to her elbows.

As she concentrated on the glass, the sound of the large wooden doors being flung open broke her somber mood. A troop of military men stepped into the room. The man who led the group was tall with a goatee ornamenting his chin. He wore glasses but they didn't fail to cover up his caring yellow-eyes.

"Who would like to see my beautiful fiancée?" He waved a picture around then stopped (Rebecca noticed the person behind him kick his shin), "I mean, the Ishbal War is over. Due to the amount of deaths, the military is asking for volunteers. Good wages! Travel!"

One of the old men at the bar stood up and waved a cane at the military men, "We need no dogs in our bar! Why don't yah goin' leave, sons of bitches! " The bar went up into an uproar; many of the men in there were drinking because of the Ishbal Massacre and the military that had destroyed their lands.

As the military pulled out weapons and the tavern goes pulled out whatever forms of weaponry they had, chaos began to open. There was a silence as Rebecca watched from her solitary corner.

The sound of gunshot made her jump up, quickly tracing a circle on her table with a chalk tipped finger. With her finger lingering on the now drawn circle, rosewood converted to its natural form. Vines round around her arms and sprung at the weapons.

The man with the goatee struggled to keep both his picture and throwing knives but the roses claimed them as well as the old man lost his cane.

No one moved in the bar as Rebecca clicked her tongue. "I was told this is a quiet bar that I would have my peace. Now play nice. Or else, I'll use alchemy worse than roses."

She pulled her ebony locks out of her face. A long pale scar cut straight through her beautiful face. "I really don't like when people get nasty with one another. Now, Mister, come take a seat with me." She undone the roses and weapons dropped to the floor.

The bar went back to quite and the soldiers took seats while the yellow-green eyed man picked up his picture and throwing knives. He checked the old man and sat down across from Rebecca.

"Major Maes Hughes. Are you saying you want to join?"

"Rebecca Jane Allen. And yes and no; I want to become a State Alchemist, but I need to know how." She took her right hand's glove off and shook the Major's hand.


	2. Chapter 1: An Alchemist Born

Disclaimer: I do not own Roy Mustang. If I did, I would not in be on here; I would be in a corner raping him. I do not own Maes Hughes. If I did, I would not be here; I would be giggling over his adorable Elysia along with him. I do not own the Furher. If I did, I would be strangling him and shoving obscene things into his eye-socket! Anyways, for the shorter answer, I do not own any part of Full Metal Alchemist. All I can own is Rebecca Jane Allen.

**A Fire's Past**

Chapter 1

An Alchemist Born

"Rebecca, you bitch!" Rebecca shivered as she heard her father's drunken screams. She pulled her blankets closer around her seven year old body. In the future her hair would be brown, but now it was covered in soot and dirt. Her green troubled eyes had been dark and fearful in the past, when in the future they were sad. As she huddled in the cabinet, she put the candle closer to her book.

"Rebecca Jane Allen! Get out of here now, you bitch!" Rebecca cried as she heard her father trump off. Ever since he had lost his mining job and mother had died, he would go out and get drunk then come home. Sometimes he would arrive home only to hit his daughter; sometimes to touch her.

As she poked her head out of the moldy cabinet, she saw her father had already dropped from overdosing on alcohol. She pulled the history book closer to her and snuck out. Her face watched the small shack was her father's house. Rebecca sighed and walked the blocks.

The streets were closed at this time of night. Watching out of the corner of her eyes, she stole through the town of Celen. Through the roads, she came up to the library. She checked around to make sure it was empty and brought the keys up.

Without a thought, she let the lamps and began to search the bookshelves after laying the history book on the desk. Rebecca's eyes searched the books. Where was a new one?

She glanced around and saw a new one. Alchemy. Her fingers itched to pick it up, then did. Bringing it close to the lamp, she scanned the pages. One the first page was inscribed,

_Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost._

Sitting down, she begun to read. Before the night had ebbed away, the open book had been joined by three others of the same kinds.

"I can use this to protect me." She grabbed a pencil from the librarian's desk. Starting with the simplest circle, she drew it making frequent glances. She grabbed some paper and threw it onto the paper. The seven year old girl checked the paragraph with the basics.

For a second, she glanced around the deserted library. _Should I do this? I'm afraid. What if I'm not old enough?_ Her eyes searched the beginner's book only to find nothing about the age.

_Please let this one day keep me safe from Daddy._

She pictured the molecules of paper shaping into something new. She concentrated on the design she wanted as her hands covered up the pieces of paper. After a second or two, a soft light shone through the cracks of her fingers.

Scared and frightened, Rebecca pulled her little kid's fingers away. A small daisy lay where the papers had been. So what if the petals had pencil marks on them? So what if the colors were dulled? She had transmuted.

With a kid's laugh, she picked up the flower and begun to dancing. A smile that had almost never been there but for brief moments, crossed her face and giggles exited the sullen girl's face. When she turned back, she quickly scribbled three different titles and laid it on top the librarian's desk.

Rebecca skipped home that night. When she arrived, she crawled into her cabinet. Her books were pressed into her chest.


	3. Chapter 2: Just Fear Me

Disclaimer: I do not own Roy Mustang. If I did, I would not in be on here; I would be in a corner raping him. I do not own Maes Hughes. If I did, I would not be here; I would be giggling over his adorable Elysia along with him. I do not own the Furher. If I did, I would be strangling him and shoving obscene things into his eye-socket! Anyways, for the shorter answer, I do not own any part of Full Metal Alchemist. All I can own is Rebecca Jane Allen.

Author's Notes: I mentioned I wasn't going to be hypocritical and say I won't write if people don't review. I can see people are reading it… but is everyone laughing and rolling their eyes at my futile efforts or are people actually enjoying what I'm typing at 3:00 in the morning? Anyways, now for Chapter 2… I shall delay you no longer.

**A Fire's Past**

Chapter 2

Just Fear Me.

Rebecca could recount the stories of that night to the world if she wanted. That night a full yellow moon loomed above her father's and her hovel. The light snow fell outside leaving messages that walks to the library at midnight would have to stop soon. Her most recent transmutation lay beside her, a marble stone that was warm to her cold body.

In the eleven years, the girl had changed to an adept alchemist. She was still dirty but her head was held higher. The scared eyes had been replaced by shining defiant eyes. The bruises were faded almost to nothing. Her legs had grown strong during the long walks to get new alchemy books. After reading in one book that training the body helped alchemy to be preformed, also made her want to try to be fit.

As she stood up from the shoddy floor, she renewed the heat on the stone. Rebecca turned towards the meat that cooked on the stove.

"You bitch!" Her father's voice came from the main room again. A curious expression acted as the only response to her father's call.

He was home early.

She slipped on the homemade gloves, olive tipped in chalk. _That bastard ought to learn by now that he can't touch me as easily now._

Her father entered the door and his eyes watched Rebecca as she slipped on her gloves. She turned around slowly and took a step back bumping into the cabinet (the same one she would read her books in when she was only seven) when she noticed her father looking at her chest.

"Rebecca," her father's voice was hoarse and smelled strongly of cheap liquor. "I not nevered realized you're a woman 'til now." He took a step forward, and the alchemist took a step to the right.

Her father reached and cupped her breast and slid a hand down her pants.

As her father tried to unzip his pants, Rebecca grabbed the nearest item, the rock. She brought it down crashing into the nearest portion of her father's body, his cranium.

Underneath the blow, he crumpled then hoisted himself upwards. "That wasn't nice, you bitch."

As she dropped the stone, Rebecca's lips quivered. "Trying something like that with your own daughter is worse."

Her father backed away when he saw his daughter's hand drawing circles, triangles, symbols, on the wall. It was his sign that his daughter did not like what was happening.

"All I ever want was to be loved. Or at least cared for." She scowled. "I stayed here learning the alchemic science only to protect myself, give myself comfort, hide away!" She finished the circle and belittled her father.

"If you can do anything now, bastard, I suggest you just fear me. Loving me is too old." She slapped her gloved hand onto the circle.

When the tree had receded back into the dead wood, Rebecca hyperventilated.

Her father's body lay with a snapped branch through his body. Crimson blood ran from his mouth. Lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling.

The alchemist took a step back. With a head spinning, she ran from the house. _Just fear me._ She called to her own self. Snow-blind eyes lead her through the familiar town. The cold wrapped around herself and constricted her warmth.

After running and train jumping, Rebecca Jane Allens fell asleep to a vow amongst the smell of sheep and hay.

_On my alchemic endeavors, I shall help those in need so that I might repay the sin I have caused this night._

Author's Notes: The title of this chapter comes from a quote in the movie Labyrinth starring Jennifer Connelly and David Bowie. I'd thought I'd mention that because it sounds like it ought to be mentioned.


	4. Chapter 3: Count the Trees

Disclaimer: I do not own Roy Mustang. If I did, I would not in be on here; I would be in a corner raping him. I do not own Maes Hughes. If I did, I would not be here; I would be giggling over his adorable Elysia along with him. I do not own the Furher. If I did, I would be strangling him and shoving obscene things into his eye-socket! Anyways, for the shorter answer, I do not own any part of Full Metal Alchemist. All I can own is Rebecca Jane Allen.

Author's notes: Thank you to MikoHatome for the review. I feel a lot better knowing people are reading and enjoying these drabbles.

Second, I also do manga art. Also as a side note, if anyone would actually like to see a picture of Rebecca you can go to Fire's Past 

Chapter 3

Count the Trees

The days and nights ran together. Mountains, fields, and small towns: they passed like morning mists. The midnight was bitter and the noon hours windy. In the train compartment, Rebecca sat her hands clasped in her lap. Her tan coat was hanging from the rack above her. On the red velvet cushions lay her olive alchemy gloves.

"One, two, three…" Her mind counted as the trees sped outside the compartment. As she continued to watch counting now eleven, the door whined when it opened.

"You're quiet again," the deep voice of Maes Hughes stated. "Maybe…" A picture of Gracia interrupted her counting. "Isn't she beautiful? When we get back to Central, we're going to be married. The war's over and life will be more—"

"Major, I know!" She pushed the arm out of her face and turned away from the window. "You've told me exactly nine times since noon yesterday and sixty-five times since I met you." Rebecca scowled.

When he sat down across from her, he pushed his glasses up his sharp nose. "Understood."

Rebecca turned back to the window and continued to count trees. "What will happen once we get to Central?"

"Well, I'll have to turn in a report and speak to the Brigadier General about you."

"What will I have to do?" She counted twenty more trees but they were thinning.

"I'll get you an audience as well as an alchemist to quarter with." Hughes pulled out his wrist knife and flipped it from hand to hand.

Now the alchemist turned to look at Hughes. "An alchemist?"

"Yes, an alchemist to quarter with. Where else will you stay while you study?" Major slipped the knife back on his wrist and leaned back with his head on the wood.

Rebecca turned back to the window with a stony glare.

Small farmhouses then roads crisscrossing from one another had replaced the trees. Gardens peeped through the gates. Little children watched the train go by their playtimes. Behind a collection of hills, Central City was nestled.

When the station pulled into view, Hughes leaned forward. "Rebecca, the world will be different from now on. Your soul purpose will be to please the military. Busy one night, nights of nothing the next, peace and fight."

"I know." Her voice was emotionless as her eyes watched the common men and women walk back and forth on the platform.

The sound of a train whistle exploded, and the door swung open. A young soldier entered. With a sharp snap and salute, he declared, "Message for Major Maes Hughes."

Hughes stood as Rebecca watched. The major nodded and told him to continue.

"Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang sends, 'Good morning and get your ass out here.'" His mouth didn't waver at the cuss word but kept at his rigid position.

Hughes nodded, "At ease," and the soldier followed his command. The major turned back to Rebecca. "Come. There's someone I wish for you to meet."

Rebecca stood up. She picked up the gloves and slipped them into the bottom pocket of her dark cargo pants. Pushing her brown bangs out of her eyes, she grabbed the coat from its hanger.

Author's Note: Gomen-nasai, it's short. I know!


End file.
